6

Before Rusty caught up with the group, Sargon the rat sidled up to her. He lay his paw upon her arm. She jerked, startled.

“Madame Bard, if I may have a word?”

Rusty shivered. She hadn’t smelled his approach. “If you want.”

“When you encounter a battle, do you, ah, write a song about it?”

“Sure. It’s how I make my coin.”

“And you’re worth every penny. Such splended melodies! But let me make sure I’m understanding correctly: if we were in battle—all of us—you would write a song? About the battle?”

Duh, she almost said, but she bit her tongue and nodded instead.

The rat didn’t reply.

“Oh, right—Yeah. Uh huh, I’d write a ditty.”

“And—let’s say…if a rat were to be part of the battle—helping conquer evil and such—do you suppose you would write a verse about that rat?”

5

Thane didn’t like it. The rat—who finally introduced himself as Sargon—had to hold on to the bear, Brun, so he wouldn’t bump into one of the aspen trees that had replaced the cedars on this side of the tunnel. But technically, they were all following this same rat. Madness.

The rat said he knew the scent of where they needed to be, but Thane had cast about in the air himself and had found nothing of note. His nose told him they were surrounded by green forest, and nothing more. When he brought this up with Brun, the bear didn’t even look at him.

“I smell it, too,” he’d said. “A wolf’s nose is nothing next to a bear’s.”

After that, Thane had ceased speaking with him.

4

They followed the bear for six days deeper and deeper into the woods, to where the boughs of ancient trees grew interlaced with one another, turning the light of day into a hazy green overcast beneath the canopy. The morning dew never seemed to completely dry from their fur, though fortunately the ground wasn’t so marshy that they couldn’t keep up with the bear.

And water was plentiful, coming from little rivulets that crisscrossed the floor of the forest. Food was a little harder to come by, although Zeke came in handy whenever they came across questionable mushrooms, and his bright eyes and little hands made for quick foraging on the move.

The rain had been gone for two days, but Rusty kept her hat pulled down. Though she fully expected to come out of the expedition with another hit song, tracking meant she couldn’t play her lute, which put her out of sorts. She didn’t smile much, or speak unless spoken to.

3

Hours later, rain drizzled off the trees as Thane led his band through the outskirts of Cedar Vale forest. Simon, bearing the shield and armor, was bent double under the weight. Normally, its polishing cloth was bundled between it and the wolf’s back, but at the moment it had been tied across the top of the shield so the falling raindrops wouldn’t ring against the metal and give them away. Simon was strongly considering going to all fours; he wasn’t built for skulking anyways, and it’d take some of the weight off his back.

Pit, pat, went the rain atop Rusty’s felt hat, now pulled down low over her eyes. Zeke had turned his jolly red vest inside out so the dull lining would blend better in the green-grey forest—though nothing could be done about his rumbling stomach.

They all felt due for a nap, but knew they couldn’t stop until the bear did, and even then they’d have to post a lookout.

Thane, on the other paw, seemed unaware that he was tracking a bear through the rainy woods after fighting a bane and getting no sleep. His whiskers shivered and his yellow eyes glinted; he had paused at the far side of a stream, tasting the cool air to confirm the bear had stomped straight across the water.